Mom gasped loudly, the very definition of scandalized. She was probably clutching her pearls just then. “You watch your mouth, young lady!”
I ignored her chastisement. It had always been like that. As far as she was concerned, Dominic would always be her “perfect little boy,” philandering man-whore and all.
“As it stands, if some guy’s spunk manages to break through the condom I’ll definitely be making him wear and my birth control pills, we have some serious problems of the biblical variety.”
“Language, Lola!” my mother admonished at the same time someone let out a choked cough from behind me.
I chanced a quick glance over my shoulder, my face drawing in the “sorry, didn’t mean for you to hear me” look I seemed to have to paste on my face every time I was out in public. That filter most people were born with, you know, the one that kept them from spewing totally inappropriate things when in crowded places? Yeah, I so didn’t have that. And it wasn’t something that had ever embarrassed me. Maybe it was the Italian in me, but I’d always said exactly what was on my mind right when I thought it, eavesdroppers be damned. I mainly apologized because it was the politically correct thing to do.
The man who’d just heard me trying to convince my mom to get her groove back Stella style while shooting down her hope for future grandbabies all in the same conversation was standing two feet away, hands in his front pockets and a knowing smile stretched across his picture-worthy face.
“Sorry,” I mouthed as I did a quick scan of his body. In just those few moments, I was able to tell his suit was high quality, no doubt designer. And judging from the broad expanse of his shoulders, tailored to fit his body. And what a body it was. Slightly disheveled chocolate brown hair, amazing green eyes, a square, chiseled jaw, and a nose that was just crooked enough to make him appear rugged without going Owen Wilson overboard wrapped up the insanely hot package. The dude was most definitely spank bank material.
I’d made an art out of reading men over the past decade, and this guy, with his expensive suit and casual confidence, screamed money and power. Both of those attributes, while hot as hell, were something I stayed far, far away from when it came to the opposite sex.
I tended to go for middle-of-the-line good guys who didn’t take life too seriously. I found they were the easiest to scrape off whenever the sex became monotonous or I just got bored and wanted to move on. Men who wielded power in their professional lives had a tendency to think they could carry that over into the personal side—including the bedroom. And when it came to sex, I always had the power. I didn’t allow it any other way. Losing power only led to heartbreak, and despite what my career would lead people to believe, I was of the firm opinion that heartbreak was for suckers.
So, despite the fact that the man behind me was the type to rev my engine, sadly, it wasn’t meant to be.
“Lola? Lola, you there?”
I spun back around at my mother’s voice, determined to put Mr. Power Suit out of my mind. “I’m here.”
“You know, there’s nothing wrong with settling down,” she told me, the same line she used every single time we talked.
I snorted—loudly. “There’s nothing right with it either.”
“Lola Arianna—”
“Abbatelli, I raised you better than that,” I interrupted, imitating her nasally, put-out tone as I finished her trademark sentence for her.
“I do not sound like that,” she harrumphed, causing me to smile.
“How about this. You don’t push me for marriage and babies, and I won’t push you for hot, sweaty island sex. Deal?”
“What did I do,” she started, undoubtedly looking at her ceiling as she spoke to God—yet another thing I’d grown accustomed to seeing during my life, “to deserve such a crass, uncouth daughter?”
“Just lucky, I guess,” I answered snidely as the barista called my name and sat my drink on the counter. “Now I have to go,” I told her as I pushed through the morning crowd, trying to get to that big cup of caffeinated goodness. “I need to get to the station and I haven’t had coffee. I’ll call you back tonight and we can talk shit about Dad for your allotted thirty minutes.”
“I do not talk shit, Lola,” she said, as if the very thought were beneath her. “I simply express my exasperation at his childish antics.”
“Tomato, to-mah-to.” I shrugged, even though she couldn’t see. “Gotta go. Love you, Ma.”
“Love you too, sweet pea. Talk soon.”
I disconnected the call and slid my cell back into my red Kate Spade bag before reaching for my venti white mocha. “Mmm,” I hummed, eyes closed in delight as I sucked down that first necessary sip. That first hit was always the best. And yes, I was aware that comparison made me sound like a crack addict, but whatevs. I was a hardcore coffee addict and wasn’t the slightest bit repentant.
“If that conversation I heard a few minutes ago wasn’t intriguing enough to catch my attention, that noise you just made certainly would’ve done it.”
I opened my eyes and landed on a pair of slightly familiar grassy green ones. “And if a lame attempt at a pickup line like that were enough to catch my attention, I’d have to shoot myself,” I replied with a sweet smile as I blatantly looked Mr. Power Suit up and down. Damn, what a shame.
“Grayson!” the barista called, setting a drink on the counter behind me. “I have a venti Americano at the counter for Grayson Lockhart!”
“I take it you’re Grayson Lockhart?” I asked, quirking an eyebrow as he stepped closer and reached past me to grab his coffee, paying extra attention to brush the sleeve of his jacket against my arm as he kept his stare focused on mine. I had to give it to him—he was good. His eyes never once deviated past my chin, and I was rocking some pretty sweet cleavage if I did say so myself. Not slutty cleavage, mind you. Classy cleavage. I was a professional woman, after all, but I’d also been blessed with the Abbatelli curves. I might’ve only been five feet, two inches tall, but I rocked a full C-cup, had a teeny waist, a J-Lo booty, and what my nonna lovingly referred to as “child-bearing hips.”
Even if I wanted to cover up what God gave me, I wouldn’t have been able to. At present, the short-sleeve, boatneck red and black Versace dress I was wearing hugged my curves and bared a modest half inch of décolletage. It wasn’t too much, just enough to hint at the more that lay beneath, but Mr. Power Suit made a conscious effort not to look. I was impressed.
“And you’re venti nonfat, no-whip white mocha for Lola,” he said with a devastatingly handsome smile. A smile that would make any woman—other than me—shudder with need.
“You got it, Suit.” I sidestepped, prepared to go around him when he spoke up again.
“I’m clearly at a disadvantage here. See, you have my full name, but I only have your first name and drink preference.”
I scrunched my face in mock speculation as I tapped my chin. “That’s quite the conundrum you got there, Grayson Lockhart. Hope you get it straightened out.” I patted his chest and moved around him, heading for the door.
“You’re really not going to give me your name?” he asked, a bewildered smile on his face that said with his good looks he was used to getting what he wanted. Unfortunately for him, so was I, and he wasn’t currently on my list of wants.
“I’m really not. Stings, I know. But I have no doubt your pride will bounce back, someone as handsome as you and all.”
“So you think I’m handsome?” he called out, shamelessly watching my hips as I sauntered toward the exit, his lips turned up in a seductive grin.
“I might not be interested, but I’m not blind,” I scoffed, one corner of my mouth tilting into a smirk as I turned and walked backward to continue our banter.
“Not interested, huh?”
I shrugged nonchalantly as I pushed the glass door open with my shoulder. “I’ve made it a habit never to date someone prettier than me. See ya around, Lockhart.”
The door closed on his hearty laugh as I headed back out i
nto the gray Seattle morning.
Nothing like a little harmless flirting to brighten a girl’s day.
KEEP READING HERE
Discover Other Books by Jessica
HOPE VALLEY SERIES:
Out of My League
Come Back Home Again
The Best of Me
Wrong Side of the Tracks
Stay With Me
Out of the Darkness
The Second Time Around
Waiting for Forever
Love to Hate You
REDEMPTION SERIES
Bad Alibi
Crazy Beautiful
Bittersweet
THE PICKING UP THE PIECES SERIES:
Picking up the Pieces
Rising from the Ashes
Pushing the Boundaries
Worth the Wait
THE COLORS NOVELS:
Scattered Colors
Shrinking Violet
Love Hate Relationship
Wildflower
THE LOCKLAINE BOYS (a LOVE HATE RELATIONSHIP spinoff):
Fire & Ice
Opposites Attract
Almost Perfect
The Locklaine Boys: The Complete Series Boxset
THE PEMBROOKE SERIES (a WILDFLOWER spinoff):
Sweet Sunshine
Coming Full Circle
A Broken Soul
Welcome to Pembrooke: The Complete Pembrooke Series
CIVIL CORRUPTION SERIES
Corrupt
Defile
Consume
Ravage
GIRL TALK SERIES:
Seducing Lola
Tempting Sophia
Enticing Daphne
Charming Fiona
STANDALONE TITLES:
One Knight Stand
Chance Encounters
Nightmares from Within
DEADLY LOVE SERIES:
Destructive
Addictive
About Jessica
Born and raised around Houston, Jessica is a self proclaimed caffeine addict, connoisseur of inexpensive wine, and the worst driver in the state of Texas. In addition to being all of these things, she’s first and foremost a wife and mom.
Growing up, she shared her mom and grandmother’s love of reading. But where they leaned toward murder mysteries, Jessica was obsessed with all things romance.
When she’s not nose deep in her next manuscript, you can usually find her with her kindle in hand.
Connect with Jessica now
Website: www.authorjessicaprince.com
Jessica’s Princesses Reader Group
Newsletter
Instagram
Facebook
Twitter
[email protected]
Love to Hate You: a Hope Valley novel Page 24